At hells front door
by Liv Ylva
Summary: Getting drafted wasn't Hawkeye's idea of a good time. After someone messed up his orders he is shipped to the one place he never wanted to go, the frontlines. An story of what could of happened before the show began all the way to the end. Could be seen as AU, will go though the entire war.
1. Prologue- To hell in a hand basket

**I wanted to show Hawkeye in a much different light than the happy go lucky drunk that people tend to see. I got introduced to M*A*S*H very reluctantly via parents, but slowly I started to pray for the end of the day to sit and curl up on the sofa with my family and watch it. Amazingly, I found out about the lyrics to the theme song later on, you know:** ** _Through early morning fog I see..._** **I didn't realize how much the song affected me until a friend committed suicide in my freshman year in high school ironically, it helped a lot. Anyway, after putting a damper on things, I shall give you the story you are wanting or found from boredom.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not in any way or form, own any M*A*S*H, the theme, or any references to anything I may or may not accidentally put into this story.**

 **Fun disclaimer: if I owned M*A*S*H I would've made Frank's last name be ferret. Clearly this never happened, alas I do not own this glorious show.**

 _ **June 29th, 1950**_

Waking up on the plane wasn't the best experience for the newly appointed 'Captain Benjamin Franklin Peirce'; the landing gear slammed down on the runway and the plane slowly taxied to a halt. He stood from the cramped seat as he tried to re-aline the vertebrae that had been cramped for hours. Grabbing the brown hat that was given to him before leaving for Korea, Ben made his way out of the plane and into the hot climate of the Asain country.

 _'This is nothing like Maine.'_ , he thought, remembering the last day he was there. It had been slightly chilly, being so far north and the ocean had been choppy because of the rain from the previous night. Here in Korea, it was the polar opposite. Trees were melting into the ground, trying to find solace from the blazing sun. Looking around heat waves blurred the ground and surrounding areas, creating mirage like shapes in the air.

"Captain Peirce", a voice called out, "come with me." Ben turned and faced an older man with olive drab fatigues, looking closer, he saw the shining bars that marked the soldier as a major.

"Of course sir, lead the way.", he waited for the major to start walking before hefting his duffel over his shoulderand quickly followed him.

They walked down many corridors and past many offices before halting at one at the end of a hall, the name plate read 'Colonel Harrison'. Nervously, Ben stepped into the office and stood in front of the imposing desk the dominated the room. Sitting in a chair, a regal man was talking coldly into the phone, "Now you listen here", he began, "I am ordering you to deal with the problem, I have a man here who needs those orders.' There was a pause as the other side of thecconversation had a say. "Yes, I realize that this will take some time but how long?" Another pause. " Three weeks!" The man exploded, "This needs to be taken care of now! I'm giving you two weeks, if it's not done, I will personally court marshal you." He slammed the receiver down before turning to Ben."I apologize for this snafu."

Ben furrowed his brow, "Pardon me?" He was confused,"What is wrong?"

The colonel sighed before straightening in his seat, "It appears that the war department has lost your transfer paperwork. I'll have to assign you to a unit for now until it comes in." The colonel paused in deep trepidation. "Sadly, the only unit open is on the front lines. Sorry lad, you're in for hell. Pack up and head for a chopper, the 339th marine corps needs a medic."

Panic only set in after the shock had disapated, well after the helicopter took off.

 **A/N: I do realize that this was short but it is only the prologue. I will try fo update as frequently as possible. Until then.**


	2. Chapter 1- Into the inferno

**The second installment of** ** _At hells front door_** _ **.**_ **I realized that in the prologue I used bars instead of the majors oak leaf, i will try to fix that as soon as possible. Thanks to WinterFrost15 and ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub for reviewing (I think that Shigure had a little to much sugar before that crazy,but awesome review). Now for Chapter 1 of** ** _At hells front door._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own M*A*S*H or any references in this story.**

 **Fun disclaimer: If I owned M*A*S*H, Klinger would never get that section 8... Oh, wait...**

 ** _June 29th,1950_**

 _'...Don't think about it. Just don't. It's okay, going to the front lines is no big deal. Not at all. Someone just messed up on your orders. It's okay. Relax. Nothing is wrong. This happens sometimes. Why did this happen to me? Why do I have to go? Why me? I don't understand. Why me?...'_

The shuddering of the helicopter shook Ben out of his panic as the aerial vehicle lowered to the ground. He glanced down at the terrain, seeing the brush and the dust swirling around as the choppers blades tear though the air. The land looked like the base he had just left, dusty and barren. He wasn't sure what part of Korea he was in now but that didn't change anything. He was still trapped. Trapped in fatigues, and a 'police action' he never wanted to be a part of. Trapped in a foreign country thousands of miles away from home. Trapped at the front lines in the middle of a war zone.

 _'Trapped'_ , he thought was a fitting word for his predicament. He remembered an English class back in Crabapple Cove. His teacher had told them to choose words from a hat then write the definition. He had grabbed the word 'Trap'. And so he wrote; _Trap: to catch or prevent from escaping. Also see: confine, ensnare, and capture._ The one that stood out the most to him was what the teacher had written down on the side of his paper in red ink: _To have something held tightly by something so that it cannot move or be freed._ It fit. Really, it did. He was the thing being held down while the war wouldn't let him go no matter how hard he tried.

Once the Helicopter touched down, Ben looked at the pilot. he was a coarse man who had smoked a cigar the whole ride there judging by the large quantity of smoke engulfing the cockpit. The pilot looked at him for a second before saying two words. "Your stop."

Ben blinked in shock (as this had been the only words on this trip) before quickly grabbing his meager belongings and jumping out of his seat. He turned, watching the rotors of the chopper pick up speed then take off. He heard the pilot mumble something under his breathe which sounded suspiciously like 'god rest his soul'. The captain stood there for a moment trying to collect himself as the helicopter ducked behind purple mountains. Sighing,he picked up his bag and standard gun that was given to him at the base, and started heading down the trail towards the american camp of the 339th marine corps. After walking for a while, he was ambushed by multiple troops in olive drab fatigues, about 15 in total.

He paused before asking casually, "Would you be the 339th?" A few of the lower ranking troops, privates he reminded himmself, snorted in amusement before a tall man stepped forward to greet him. The man stopped short of Ben and seemed to be sizing him up.

"Yes." The man replied, his deep voice strict yet at the same time relaxed. The paradoxes in this man confused the captain. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Donovan. It's a pleasure." The colonel paused before continuing, "Would you happen to be Captain Pierce? I-Corps said you were coming. A substitute, right?"

At this, Ben nodded, "Yes sir. My orders got misplaced so they sent me to you until they find them... or not." He looked around and saw the sympathy on the surrounding peoples faces.

"To bad. You should never start on the front line." The colonel frowned. "I don't want to call you captain, gets way to complicated. You got a nickname you can go by?"

Ben nodded sheepishly,"You can call me Hawkeye."

"As in Last of the Mohicans." Donovan chuckled briefly. "Good book."

He would have continued talking but a mortar shell exploded some twenty five yards away from the small gathering of troops. Everyone raced for cover in a small ditch of the side of the beaten path. Ben glanced around, heart beating wildly. The colonel seemed to notice and smirked a little. "Well", Donovan said dryly, finishing his former statement, "welcome to Korea,Hawkeye. Ready for some on the job training?"

 **A/N: To wrap this up i suggest that people pay close attention to names and the like as it might get a little confusing otherwise. Also, this is a lot longer. I feel very accomplished! Once again I will try to update soon but no promises.**


	3. Chapter 2-Descent into hell

**I'm trying to get the introductions for important people in this chapter. If you need more details (flashbacks) to explain certain things, let me know. Also I have an interesting sense of humor that I'm pretty sure is showing in the story, oh well. Never the less, on-wards! The story awaits**! PS thanks to Winter Frost15 for reviewing once again. And it seems that I lost my ability to make this bolded. Huh.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any references or characters in this story except Donovan, Stokes, Nobus, and De Lonzo.**

 **Fun disclaimer: I want to own M*A*S*H but they haven't invented time travel yet so...**

Many weeks past by in a blur as Ben traversed the front lines, saving as many lives as he could. Throughout this time he had found g

ood friends within the 339th Marine corps. He had gotten close to the small group rather quickly. The colonel, James "Rodeo" Donovan from Texas, was like an older brother, helping the young medic learn the ropes with his dry and coarse humor. Rodeo had told him that everyone got a nickname in the 339th because of the fact that they were as close as they could get to family. "Families use nicknames, not ranks." He got his from the light Texan twang in his accent, left over from his days on the ranch.

One of the privates, one Andrew "Sticks" Stokes, was the little brother of the bunch. He was only 18, fresh out of school and loved explosions a little to much. Hence the name "Sticks", dynamite in its best form. Ben got introduced to this odd tick of Andrew's via a large amount of dynamite that caught fire in his back pocket, which immediately got tossed at the nearest enemy. A big explosion and some rather sun-burnt faces later, Ben was satisfied to know that, that was the last of the dynamite. Despite this, Ben really liked the little twerp, enjoying the nights when Andrew would pull out his harmonica and played songs from home. 'My dear clementine' came to mind.

Accompanying Sticks in song was Lieutenant Jimmy "Fiddler" de Lonzo, he sung so sweet, it could charm snipers to come out to listen, coming over and sitting before they even realized what was going on. They had captured many an enemy and ally in this manner, it was rather embarrassing for the captives afterwards. The sarcastic Italian-american told many jokes and cooked wonderful food from the surrounding countryside.

Last but not least, Major Anthony "Caeser" Nobus. The man swore that he was related to every emperor of the Roman Empire, so the corps jokingly called him my liege and mi-lord. On a daily basis the cook would drop to his knees and offer the 'first' meal of the day to him, praising as many roman names as he could. It was a good way to start the abominations known as daylight hours. And they really were abominations.

During those hours, Ben was busy patching up everything from cuts to belly wounds, only relaxing as the sun went down. He had seen many people from the 339th come and go in those short weeks, some dying, some not. His hands, which he had always been proud of, were covered in blood by the end of the day. Only two weeks in and he had lost a lot patients. He had been helpless, even after the fighting was over for the moment. Addrems, Kingsley, Harper, Spencer, and Flit; and those were just in his unit. Just his. They were down to just under 20 men in the 339th Company C. Two weeks. Just two blood filled weeks. Osan had hit them hard. Ben slowly began to slip away leaving the beginnings of Hawkeye.

 _July 21st, 1950_

The North Koreans had taken Osan and were pushing south. As their company retreated to Daejeon, Ben was talking to Rodeo about the pros and cons of whisky versus saké. They had been bickering for hours about it while the occasional comment rose from the troops behind the two men. This debate had started at the beginning of the long march and after five hours was still going strong.

"Honestly Hawkeye, how could you say that about my whisky?" Rodeo turned towards him with sad eyes, "I'm not sharing next time, so don't even ask!" The man was pouting , full on pouting at him! A colonel!

"Sheesh, all I said was that the smell is horrible, Rodeo, not that it is the worse drink ever."

"Who cares? You don't speak bad about a Texan's drink. It just isn't right."

The men chuckled behind them, remembering all the times the colonel had mentioned Texas. Every night it seemed, Rodeo would tell stories about Texas; the time that he had to lasso a wild stallion which then became his main horse or even the many different bar fights he got dragged into. He was sure something, the colonel. After a few more hours of walking, the corps settled down to camp near a field of tall yellow grass. Later, after setting up camp and eating, they all set down to talk, tell stories, and drink. Eventually Rodeo told the story of when he woke up married to his horse, which had the men laughing uproariously. Times like these were ones that Ben started to treasure the most.

Little did he know that it was all about to end.

 **A/N: Yep, not only did I not post a chapter for ages, I left you with a cliff hanger. Aren't I evil? Anyway, school has started and I am drowning in an insane amount of advanced classes so updates shall be even more spotty, sorry. Hope you enjoyed. Also R &R please, it gives me ideas.**


	4. Chapter 3- Feel the heat

**I am SO sorry. Let me just say band is evil and time consuming. Read as no social life. Anyway, I have finally written the next chapter, so don't kill me. And honestly, if I owned MASH I would've kept Frank, not because I like him but because I love to hate him. And now, it's story time. Italics are writing and italics with quotations around them are thoughts.**

Occasionally, he felt the urge to scream. A gut-retching scream of anguish. In the past, he had felt pain when his mother passed away, but that time didn't hold a candle to what hell he lived everyday in Korea. Artillery and gunshots continued day and night as the front-lines continuously changed day to day. Currently he was crouched in a ditch that he had been in two weeks prior and three weeks before that, when he had met the 339th. There was blood everywhere, dried to the rocks in large splotches. Ben cringed. The smell had been overpowering weeks ago and was now gag-inducing.

His hands were shaking, he noticed. Sticking his hands under his arms to hide to twitching limbs, he sighed and wished for the whiskey that Rodeo was always talking about. They had run out of all forms of alcohol, medical or otherwise, a week ago and were in desperate need of it, infection was running rampant in the unit. Men groaned around him, waiting for a chopper that might not even arrive in time. Being right on the front-lines caused many of the choppers to land a couple of miles back to avoid artillery fire. Most of the people around him wouldn't make it to the chopper, let alone though the night. He sighed and forced his shaking hands to pick up the pen and paper he had been writing on before.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Today is the 41st day that my papers have been missing, so instead of being where I am supposed to be assigned I am at the front-lines waiting for my replacement and my papers. Please get someone on this, I would like that very much. Anyway, how is your wife? I hope she is doing fine. How am I? I'm doing well. The front-line is not what it's cracked up to be. In fact, I would say it's worse. I'm going to be blunt, your generals suck. get them to make up their minds. Thank you. Oh, ignore the red stains, the conditions here aren't the best so the boys are kind of trying a new form of relaxation, puncture wounds. Personally, as a doctor, I don't recommend it but it seems to be the rage around here. Sorry, that was rude. When you are here, manners only get you killed._

 _The unit I am temporarily assigned to is the 339th Marine Corps. When I showed up they had 50 men, now we're down to a whopping 24. Who said war wasn't interesting, eh? I'm going to be honest here. There is no alcohol to stop infection and what little ammunition we have left is on the brink of non-existent. We need supplies. We don't even have food, we ran out yesterday. Personally, I haven't..._

The letter was had been dropped on the ground by that point and he ducked down covering his head as artillery blasts hit the ground directly in front of his ditch.

 _... Sorry, artillery shells were falling from the sky again, sorry for the shaky handwriting, I hope you can still read this. I promise this paper used to be white. Well, i hope so, i got it in Maine, my home state, so it should be. Sorry, I'm rambling. Anyway, it's never silent here, the sounds of gunshots, artillery, and men crying and shouting are a constant backtrack to my day. If it was quiet I think I would think I'm deaf. This "Police Action" needs to stop, the causalities are already to high._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Citizen Ben "Hawkeye" Pierce._

Signing the letter with a flourish, Ben carefully folded it and stuffed it in his pants pocket. It was time to get to work.

 **A/N: I think I did an okay job at this chapter. It was a lot darker than the previous ones. Sorry, but isn't war dark and scarring? As always, R &R. **


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